


Or Forever Hold Your Peace

by Welsper



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post Between Frost and Flame, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26171929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welsper/pseuds/Welsper
Summary: “How can we sit here with… this man! Are we really to forget how he sought to invade our country? Take over the whole island?” A minister’s angry shouts cut through the heavy silence. “We ought to put an end to the threat right here lest it happen again!”
Relationships: Aglovale/Percival (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: Alternate Universe Exchange 2020





	Or Forever Hold Your Peace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [azurrys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azurrys/gifts).



It had been some time after the events in Wales. In the meeting room of the castle of Feendrache, Percival and Aglovale sat at the table together with King Carl and Captain Lancelot of the order of the White Dragons, along with his co-captain Vane and Siegfried. Various knights and politicians had joined them. Aglovale’s face was cool and collected as always, but Percival thought he saw a hint of agitation in those red eyes. He wanted to reach out, place a hand on his arm, show his brother that he was here for him. Would always be. Never again would he let Aglovale walk that path, spiral down into these dark places, this he had vowed to himself.

“How can we sit here with… this man! Are we really to forget how he sought to invade our country? Take over the whole island?” A minister’s angry shouts cut through the heavy silence. “We ought to put an end to the threat right here lest it happen again!”

Percival’s hand twitched to the hilt of his sword – only it wasn’t there, no weapons allowed in here. A show of trust, of peace and yet here they were, already at each other’s throats. But if it came to it, Percival would defend himself and his brother with his bare hands if need be. He would not give up his dreams. He would not give up Aglovale.

Carl raised a hand to calm the minister instead. He always said he was not a good king, not fit, but his kindness and care and deep concern for Feendrache and peace made him a fitting sovereign for this country if Percival was asked.

“Let us not descend into hostility again, please. Not when we have but barely rekindled our friendship.”

“Friendship? With this madman? Pah! I spit on this friendship!”

“Enough! I will not have you insult our guests!”

“Can you not see he is a danger! You are far too trusting, my king!”

“I pose no danger to your country, sir,” Aglovale spoke up. “Of that you have my word.”

“And what is your word worth! Who says that you shall keep it and not immediately amass your armies again once we let you walk out of that door!”

“Then I will stop him again,” Siegfried spoke up, his voice quiet but sure. Percival felt a swell of pride in him at his former captain. Yes, Siegfried would do this. He would always defend Feendrache, from all threats. It shamed Percival that he had doubted this once.

“And what if you are not here? You travel with a skyfaring crew at times, do you not? You can not always be here to put an end to his schemes!”

“The Order of the White Dragons is still here. We will defend you and yours and everyone in this country,” Lancelot said. “This I swear.”

“We needn’t let it come to defense at all if we just put an end to the threat!”

Carl sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. So this was the burden of a king too. Aglovale and Carl both felt this pressure, had both let themselves be manipulated by promises of power, Carl by Isabella and Aglovale by the otherworldly creature. Percival burned those lessons in his mind, so that it may not take him too. In his utopia, he wanted to keep the people safe, and he understood that to be promised the strength to do that would be tempting. Carl’s eyes met his.

“Percival… there is perhaps no one but you who knows the workings of your brother’s mind best. What say you? Is Aglovale to be trusted?”

Percival was quiet for some time. Certainly, he had always thought he knew his brother well. Well enough. That his brother was strong but kind, and yet he had done all of those things. Yes, influenced by the otherworldly beings, seduced by that power, but still he had been. Did Percival really know him as well as he should? Could he really say that Aglovale was no threat? That even on his own, he would not one day decide that what was needed to keep the people safe was to be the one true sovereign over the whole island? That his brother, alone in his castle and faced with the burden of rule would not go this way again?

All eyes were on him as he looked Carl in the eyes and nodded.

“My brother will not do any harm to Feendrache. I know my brother to be a good man.”

Carl sighed. “I see. I trust your judgment, Percival. You have always been loyal to this country and served her well. And so it pains me that your word alone will not sway some. You say you trust him, and so you do, but it is true. You too, are away on travels often. You know as little of the workings of Wales as some of us do.”

“I cannot deny this,” Percival said, his gaze cast down onto the table. His glass of water stood there untouched. Most of theirs were, the mood tense and worried and he did not blame them although to have his brother treated like a criminal made him furious.

“If you were to stay in Wales, however…” Those words by Carl got nods and murmurs of agreement in the ranks of even those who had openly spoken about Aglovale being a threat. Percival’s lips were a thin line and his brows furrowed. If he was true to himself… there had always been a longing in him to return home, to be with his family, his people. But to leave Djeeta like this, his vassals. Was it right? Had he already learned enough? Could the utopia he dreamed about be found in Wales? But Aglovale was king, not him.

“If it will make you cease your hostility towards my brother, I will gladly do so.”

“What of your travels, Percival?” Aglovale’s voice was soft and Percival smiled at him.

“Perhaps it is time I came home.”

Aglovale smiled. “I see. I cannot say I have not wished for this.”

Percival’s face softened at that and his heart beat faster at the kind smile his brother gave him. That now, he would be able to stay with him again… It had been so very long.

“We must ensure that their bond is strong enough and will not be undermined by other nations and players seeking the power of the Lord of Frost.”

“Marriage,” a minister said and blood rushed in Percival’s ears. Surely they could not mean…

“His own brother?”

“Yes… there is precedent for this in Wales. Is this too much of a burden on you two? I long for lasting peace and no mistrust between our countries, but not at the cost of your own happiness,” Carl said.

“My brother’s hand is no hardship for me to take,” Aglovale said immediately.

“And you, Percival?”

Percival tried to calm his roaring heart before he spoke up. Perhaps there was still a tremor in his voice when he did, but none said a word had they noticed. “And neither is it for me. I will wed my brother and so we can hopefully put this distrust behind us. I swear I will only strife for peace and friendship between our countries.”

“Then it is decided.”

* * *

The time after that went by as in almost a blur. Wedding preparations, oaths and invitations and negotiations. Aglovale breezed through all of them with a mind and face of steel, only sometimes sending Percival a smile from across the room that sent his heart racing.

“—ival? Percival!”

Percival nearly jumped at the sound of Aglovale calling his name, a stack of papers in his hand he was trying to hand to him.

“The expansions for the flood barriers. What say you to this?”

“You would ask me?”

“You are to be my husband. It is only fit that I use your input to further the strength of my country.”

“Of course…”

“Oi, oi… not very romantic, are you?” Vyrn sighed, lounging around Djeeta’s shoulder, munching on an apple Percival had bought him from the market. It was a bustle these days, with how welcoming Wales— his brother had been. “Further the strength of your country? Isn’t it gonna be Sir Burnsalot’s country too now? You’re both kings now, aren’t you?”

“So we shall be. And so I will make sure Percival is well versed in the matters of state. If he is to make sure the peace keeps, he must do his part too.”

Of course… They were to marry for this reason. Percival had always known this, accepted it, but he could not help but let the mind wander at times, what it would be like to feel Aglovale’s passion, be someone he desired rather than have the marriage a mere tool for diplomacy’s sake.

“You can just say you’re happy, you big grumpy, y’know,” Vyrn said with laughter and Aglovale glowered at him. “It’s okay if you just want to marry Percival!”

“Yeah! It’s not a bad thing to want to be with someone you care for!” Lyria said, balling her fists in excitement. She was always so excited for weddings… Percival couldn’t help but smile as he thought about Aglovale having to fend her off for wanting to weave flowers into his hair for the wedding, she was sure to try. He would miss traveling with them…

“Percival.” Djeeta’s warm voice interrupted his thoughts. She smiled at him. “You too. It’s fine to want to be with someone you love. No matter where you are, you’ll always be part of the crew! One day, we’ll all travel together on the Grandcypher again! And we’ll come visit, right?”

“Right!” Vyrn and Lyria chirped in, nodding eagerly.

“But you!” Djeeta pointed her finger at Aglovale. “I won’t give my liege lord up to you if you continue to be like that about it! Tell him properly.”

“Don’t bother my brother, vassals.”

“But I’m not going to let you get married like that!”

“We already agreed… I understand it’s hard to understand, but marriages between nobility is often more transactional than—”

“But it’s not transactional!” Lyria shouted. “It’s not… everyone can see how you two look at each other but you!”

“What…” Percival blinked at the agitated trio. He felt a friendly punch in his back and stumbled towards Aglovale, who caught him with a hand on his waist. Djeeta grinned at him and then turned to the door with Lyria and Vyrn in tow.

“We’re dragging you back to the Grandcypher if you keep talking about flood barriers! I’m so gonna object and never hold my peace if you get married without ever talking about your feelings!”

Both brothers were left with a slam of the door and only the quiet sounds of the birds singing with the setting sun. Aglovale sighed.

“I am sorry, Percival… I know this is all hard on you. I had not wished to make it more awkward than this by forcing my own silly feelings upon you. But it seems the captain will not let it slide and I cannot compromise the peace between our nations. I cannot compromise Wales. I have to keep the homeland that brought me what is most dear to me. So I will ask you properly. Like I should have. I never wanted to make you feel as if you were only a tool…”

“Aglovale...”

Aglovale sank to one knee and Percival’s eyes went wide. His brother’s hands were warm as they took his own in their embrace. “Percival… my dear Percival. Not for the sake of nations or peace. For the sake of my love for you that burns as bright as your flames… will you marry me?”

Nothing had ever made Percival feel warmer than this, not from the day he had started to practice fire magic to now. His brother’s words melted him, and for this moment it was as if their roles were reversed, as if Aglovale was the Lord of Flames who lit the fires of passion and love bright in Percival. Slowly, Percival nodded. There was but one answer he could give. Wanted to give.

“Yes.”

* * *

“Percival.”

Aglovale’s voice ripped him out of his trance. He was dressed down now, out of his ceremonial robes, like Percival himself as they had retired to their suite. Their suite. With their bed. Aglovale’s hair hung over his shoulder in a loose braid. Percival wondered if it felt as soft as it looked.

“Percival,” Aglovale said again, voice low as he reached out for him. Percival took a step closer, then another one. “Do you regret this?”

Percival stepped into Aglovale’s outstretched arms and breathed in deeply when his brother held him. There was peace in Wales and Feendrache. Aglovale was with him. Was _his_.

“No.”

Their next kiss, Percival enjoyed with all his senses. No one was there to look at them. No music and cheering and raining petals distracted him.

When they drew back, Aglovale’s smile was true and Percival’s heart full.

He was home.


End file.
